‘The probe is functioning at one hundred per cent,’ said a technician.
Zito breathed out. ‘That was our big worry. Even though the probe is designed for exactly these conditions, the world has never seen this kind of explosion before.’ He turned to another lab worker. ‘Any movement?’
The man hesitated before answering. ‘Yes, Doctor Zito. We have vertical movement. Five metres per second. Exactly as you hypothesized.’
Below the Earth’s crust, a behemoth of iron and rock began its painstaking descent towards the Earth’s core. It chugged and churned, bubbling and hissing, prising apart the mantle below it. Inside the molten mass, a grapefruit-sized probe continued to broadcast data.
Spontaneous euphoria erupted in the laboratory. Men and women hugged each other. Cigars were lit and champagne corks popped. Someone even pulled out a violin.
‘We are on our way,’ shouted a jubilant Zito, lighting the reporter’s cigar. ‘Man is going to the centre of the Earth. Look out below!’
In the stolen LEP shuttle, Holly froze the picture. Zito’s triumphant features were spread across the screen.
‘Look out below,’ she repeated glumly. ‘Man is coming to the centre of the Earth.’
The moods in the shuttle ranged from glum to desolate. Holly was taking it especially hard. The entire fairy civilization was under threat yet again, and this time Commander Root wasn’t around to meet the challenge. Not only that, but, since the LEP pursuit pods had blown out their communications, there was no way to warn Foaly about the probe.
‘I have no doubt he already knows,’ said Artemis. ‘That centaur monitors all the human news channels.’
‘But he doesn’t know that Opal Koboi is giving Zito the benefit of her fairy knowledge.’ Holly pointed at Giovanni’s image on the screen. ‘Look at his eyes. The poor man has been mesmerized so many times, his pupils are actually ragged.’
Artemis stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘If I know Foaly, he’s been monitoring this project since its initiation. He probably already has a contingency plan.’
‘I’m sure he has. A contingency plan for a crackpot scheme in ten years’ time that will probably never work.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Artemis. ‘As opposed to a scientifically viable scheme, right now, that has every chance of succeeding.’
Holly headed for the cockpit. ‘I have to turn myself in, even if I am a murder suspect. There is more at stake here than my future.’
‘Steady on,’ objected Mulch. ‘I broke out of prison for you. I have no desire to be shoved back in again.’
Artemis stepped in front of her. ‘Wait a minute, Holly. Think about what will happen if you do turn yourself in.’
‘Artemis is right,’ added Butler. ‘You should think about this. If the LEP is anything like human police forces, fugitives are not exactly welcomed with open arms. Open cell doors maybe.’
Holly forced herself to stop and think, but it was difficult. Every second she waited was another second for the giant iron slug to eat its way through the mantle.
‘If I give myself up to Internal Affairs, I will be taken into custody. As an LEP officer, I can be held for seventy-two hours without counsel. As a murder suspect, I can be held for up to a week. Even if someone did believe that I was completely innocent and that Opal Koboi was behind all this, it would still take at least eight hours to get clearance for an operation. But in all likelihood my claims would be dismissed as the standard protests of the guilty. Especially with you three backing up my story. No offence.’
‘None taken,’ said Mulch.
Holly sat down, cradling her head in her hands. ‘My world is utterly gone. I keep thinking there will be a way back, but things just spin further and further out of control.’
Artemis placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Courage, Captain. Ask yourself, what would the commander do?’
Holly took three deep breaths, then sprang from her seat, her back stiff with determination.
‘Don’t you try to manipulate me, Artemis Fowl. I make my own decisions. Even so, Julius would take care of Opal Koboi himself. So that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘Excellent,’ said Artemis. ‘In that case we will need a strategy.’
‘Right. I’ll fly the shuttle. You put that brain of yours to work and come up with a plan.’
‘Each to his own,’ said the boy. He sat in one of the shuttle’s chairs, gently massaged his temples with his fingertips and began to think.
THE ZITO EARTH FARM, MESSINA PROVINCE, SICILY
Opal’s plan to bring the human and fairy worlds together was one of simplicity in its execution, but genius in its conception. She simply made it easier for a human to do what he was already thinking of doing. Almost every major energy company in the world had a ‘Core Probe’ file, but they were all hypothetical as regards the amount of explosives needed to blast through the crust and the iron necessary to get the probe through the mantle.
Opal had picked Giovanni Zito from her list of prospective puppets because of two things: Zito had a large fortune and he had land directly above a huge, high-grade haematite orebody.
Giovanni Zito was a Sicilian engineer and a pioneer in the field of alternative power sources. A committed environmentalist, Zito developed ways of generating electricity without stripping the land or destroying the environment. The invention that had made his fortune was the Zito solar-mill, a windmill with solar panels for blades, making it many times more efficient than conventional mills.
Six weeks earlier, Zito had returned from an environmental summit in Geneva, where he had delivered the keynote address to ministers of the European Union. By the time he reached his villa overlooking the Strait of Messina, the sunset was dropping orange blobs in the water, and Zito was exhausted. Talking to politicians was difficult.
Even the ones who were genuinely interested in the environment were hamstrung by those in the pay of big business. The ‘polluticians’, as the media had nicknamed them.
Zito ran himself a bath. The water was heated by solar panels on his roof. In fact, the entire villa was self-sufficient when it came to power. There was enough juice in the solar batteries to keep the house hot and lit for six months. All with zero emissions.
After his bath, Zito wrapped himself in a towelling dressing gown and poured a glass of Bordeaux, settling into his favourite armchair.
Zito took a long draught of wine, willing the day’s tension to evaporate. He cast his eyes over the familiar row of framed photographs on the wall. Most were magazine covers celebrating his technological innovations, but his favourite one, the one that had made him famous, was the Time magazine cover that showed a younger Giovanni Zito astride a humpback whale, with a whaling ship looming over them both. The unfortunate creature had strayed into shallow waters and could not dive, so Zito had leaped from a conservationists’ dinghy on to the creature’s back, thus shielding it from the whalers’ harpoons. Someone on the dinghy had snapped a photo, and that photo had become one of the most famous media images of the last century.
Zito smiled. Heady days. He was about to close his eyes for a quick nap before dinner when something moved in the shadows in the corner of the room. Something small, barely the height of the table.
Zito sat straight up in his chair. ‘What’s that? Is somebody there?’
A lamp flicked on to reveal a small girl perched on a log stool. She held the lamp cord in her hand and seemed not in the least afraid or upset in any way. In fact, the girl was calm and composed, regarding Zito as if he were the intruder.
Giovanni stood.
‘Who are you, little one? Why are you here?’
The girl fixed him with the most incredible eyes. Deep brown eyes. Deep as a vat of chocolate.
‘I am here for you, Giovanni,’ she said in a voice as beautiful as her eyes. In fact, everything about the girl was beautiful: her porcelain features… and those eyes. They would not let him go.
Zito fought her spell. ‘For me? What do you mean? Is your mother nearby?’
The girl smiled. ‘Not nearby, no. You are my family now.’
Giovanni tried to make sense of this simple sentence, but he could not. Was it really important? Those eyes, and that voice. So melodic. Layers of crystal tinkling.
Humans react differently to the fairy mesmer. Most immediately fall under its hypnotic spell, but there are those with strong minds who need to be pushed a little.
And the more they are pushed, the greater the risk of brain damage.
‘I am your family now?’ said Zito slowly, as though he were searching each word for its meaning.
‘Yes, human,’ snapped Opal impatiently, pushing harder. ‘My family. I am your daughter, Belinda. You adopted me last month, secretly. The papers are in your bureau.’
Zito’s eyes lost their focus. ‘Adopted? Bureau?’
Opal drummed her tiny fingers on the base of the lamp. She had forgotten how dull some humans could be, especially under the mesmer. And this one was supposed to be a genius.
‘Yes. Adopted. Bureau. You love me more than life, remember? You would do absolutely anything for your darling Belinda.’
A tear pooled on Zito’s eyelid. ‘Belinda. My little girl. I’d do anything for you, dear, anything.’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Opal impatiently. ‘Of course. I said that. Just because you’re mesmerized doesn’t mean you have to repeat everything I say. That is so tiresome.’
Zito noticed two small creatures in the corner. Creatures with pointed ears. This fact penetrated the mesmer’s fugue.
‘I see. Over there. Are they human?’
Opal glowered at the Brill brothers. They were supposed to stay out of sight.
Mesmerizing a strong mind such as Zito’s was a delicate enough operation without distractions.
She added another layer to her voice. ‘You cannot see those figures. You will never see them.’
Zito was relieved. ‘Of course. Good. Nothing at all. Mind playing tricks.’
Opal scowled. What was it about humans and grammar? At the first sign of stress it went out of the window. Mind playing tricks. Really.
‘Now, Giovanni, Daddy. I think we need to talk about your next project.’
‘The water-powered car?’
‘No, idiot. Not the water-powered car. The core probe. I know you have designed one. Quite a good design for a human, though I will be making changes.’
‘The core probe. Impossible. Can’t get through crust. Don’t have enough iron.’
‘We can’t get through the crust. We don’t have enough iron. Speak properly, for heaven’s sake. It’s trying enough speaking Mud Man without listening to your gibberish. Honestly, you human geniuses are not all you’re cracked up to be.’
Zito’s beleaguered brain made the effort. ‘I am sorry, dearest Belinda. I simply mean that the core probe project is long term. It will have to wait until we can find a practical way to gather the iron, and cut through the Earth’s crust.’
Opal looked at the dazed Sicilian. ‘Poor, dear, stupid Daddy. You developed a super laser to cut through the crust. Don’t you remember?’
A dewdrop of sweat rolled down Zito’s cheek. ‘A super laser? Now that you mention it…’
‘And can you guess what you’ll find when you do cut through?’
Zito could guess. Part of his intellect was still his own. ‘A haematite orebody? It would have to be massive. Of very high grade.’
Opal led him to the window. In the distance the wind farm’s blades flashed in the starlight.
‘And where do you think we should dig?’
‘I think we should dig under the wind farm,’ said Zito, resting his forehead against the cool glass.
‘Very good, Daddy. If you dig there, I will be ever so happy.’
Zito patted the pixie’s hair. ‘Ever so happy,’ he said sleepily. ‘Belinda, my little girl. Papers are in bureau.’
‘The papers are in the bureau,’ Opal corrected him. ‘If you persist with this baby talk I will have to punish you.’
She wasn’t joking.
E7, BELOW THE MEDITERRANEAN
Holly had to stay out of the major chutes on her way to the surface. Foaly had sensors monitoring all traffic through commercial and LEP routes. This meant navigating unlit, meandering secondary chutes, but the alternative was being picked up by the centaur’s bugs and hauled back to Police Plaza before the job was done.
Holly negotiated stalactites the size of skyscrapers and skirted vast craters teeming with bioluminescent insect life. But instinct was doing the driving. Holly’s thoughts were a thousand miles away, reflecting on the events of the last twenty-four hours. It seemed as though her heart were finally catching up with her body.
All her previous adventures with Artemis were comic-book escapades compared to their current situation. It had always been ‘… happy ever after’ before. There had been a few close calls but everyone had made it out alive. Holly studied her trigger finger. A faint scar circled the base, where it had been severed during the Arctic incident. She could have healed the scar or covered it with a ring, but she preferred to keep it where she could see it. The scar was part of her. The commander had been a part of her too. Her superior, her friend.
Sadness emptied her out, then filled her up again. For a while, thoughts of revenge had fuelled her. But now, even the thought of dumping Opal Koboi into a cold cell could not light a spark of vengeful joy in her heart. She would keep going, to ensure the People were safe from humans. Maybe when that task was done, it would be time to take a look at her life. Maybe there were a few things that needed changing.
Artemis summoned everyone to the passenger area as soon as he had finished work on the computer. His ‘new old’ memories were giving him immense pleasure. As his fingers skimmed across the Gnommish keyboards, he marvelled at the ease with which he navigated the fairy platform. He marvelled too at the technology itself, even though he was no stranger to it any more. The Irish boy felt the same thrill of rediscovery that a small child feels when he has chanced upon a lost favourite toy.
For the past hour, rediscovery had been a major theme in his life. Having a major theme for an hour doesn’t seem like much, but Artemis had a catalogue of memories all clamouring to be acknowledged. The memories themselves were startling enough: boarding a radioactive train near Murmansk, or flying across the ocean, concealed beneath LEP cam foil. But it was the cumulative effect of these memories that interested Artemis. He could literally feel himself becoming a different person. Not exactly the way he used to be, but closer to that individual. Before the fairies had mind-wiped him as part of the Jon Spiro deal, his personality had been undergoing what could be seen as positive change. So much so that he had decided to go completely legitimate and donate ninety per cent of Spiro’s massive fortune to Amnesty International. Since his mind wipe, he had reverted to his old ways, indulging his passion for criminal acts.
